True North

Night reigned supreme over the small town of Kinnemuck, Alaska, as it had for the past three weeks. While not the northernmost town in Alaska, it still suffered from the curse of polar night. What granted the townsfolk some comfort through this abysmally cold part of the year was the aurora. For some reason, Sheriff James Breaker was having trouble finding the joy in seeing the greenish hues dance among the clouds tonight. The town boasted a population of a whopping three hundred and five souls—or people, if you’re not the religious type.

It might have been the snow lashing against his face from the stiff wind, freezing his skin for just a moment before melting and falling like ghostly tears down his face only for the sensation to start all over that had him feeling dour. The wind howled and roared, drowning out any other sound save what James called ghost voices—the notion that he could hear an occasional voice saying something, but garbled as though it was coming in over a static filled radio. This snowstorm had come out of nowhere today, and he had started everyone in the department—all six of them—to set aside their usual duties and prepare the emergency shelter in Town Hall. After Sheriff Barnes passed away on December first from a long bout with COVID, James inherited the job and became interim sheriff, and he was the youngest person to hold the position in the town’s history—all at forty-three years old. He still didn’t feel right when people addressed him as sheriff, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t do the job to the best of his ability.

Growing up in Kinnemuck and with his father being a police officer, James felt he owed a duty to this town and its people to do right by them. That meant making sure everyone was safe tonight. He had started the emergency alert horns blaring their dissonant call earlier that day, making sure everyone in town made it to the shelter, or at the very least make sure people knew what kind of hand they’d been dealt that day.

Standing outside in the freezing single-digit temperature, he held a scarf over his mouth and nose, some earmuffs, and eschewed his uniform hat in favor of a beanie. Thankfully he had a uniform jacket for occasions like this. He was standing outside so that he could keep track of how many people had come in from the storm, and he had set a couple of the junior officers to do a second tally once they made it inside. Also, he wanted to make sure everyone stayed inside, since he knew some people could get pretty antsy when couped up for an extended amount of time.

Maggie, his wife, had loved this time of year, always ready to curl up by the fire and read a good book, fix hot tea. He missed those things terribly. She’d been gone for seven months now, and his grief had only grown over time. Her battle with skin cancer had been something they were both sure she would beat—and for a while it seemed she had. That was up until a year ago this month; then it came back with a vengeance. When the cancer finally took her, hope had quickly followed suit.

“Sheriff!” A woman shouted at him, breaking him out of his reverie. He realized belatedly that she had shouted at him more than once. I need to keep my head on straight, he thought.

It was Jenny Taylor—a woman James had known since they were in kindergarten together all the way through high school, and she jogged up to him through the blinding snow.

“Seriously, Jenny? ‘Sheriff’? Call me—” the rest of the sentence died on his lips as he was able to clearly see her red, tear-streaked face.

Her face was bright red, and it appeared that she had been crying. It could have been the exertion from running through the snow, but he knew the difference between someone crying, and exhaustion from outside elements. He’d seen Maggie in both situations plenty of times. Her memory had a way of sneaking up on him, just as an image flashed in his mind’s eye for a quick second before disappearing.

Maggie’s face looked—concerned. Worried. She was biting her upper lip, the tell that always let James know something serious was on her mind. Why would that image come to him now?

“Jenny, what’s wrong? Has something happened?” No time to dwell on the odd sensation of seeing Maggie’s face again. It was his job to help other people, not focus on himself.

“It-it’s C-Connor. He’s not in the sh-sh-shelter!” She was beyond upset. She was hysterical, and he didn’t blame her for one second.

“Quickly, come with me,” he ordered, and the two slogged through the snow back to the entrance to Town Hall. “When did you see him last? Take your time and take a deep breath.” James asked once they were back in the warmth of the shelter.

She did as instructed, regaining a bit of her composure with each deep breath. “Half an hour ago. He and I got in an argument about him wanting to go outside with some of the other kids and I said no, because it was too cold and dark outside. I told him that this storm is serious business. He stormed off, saying his dad would have let him go if he had been here.” Her husband had this year from a heart attack.

James shook his head and laid a hand on her shoulder as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “Chuck would never have allowed that. You and I both know it. Why were his friends wanting to go outside for Pete’s sake? Don’t they know it’s a blizzard?” He couldn’t imagine anyone—besides him, of course—willingly going outside.

She shrugged. “I have no idea, James. Connor had pointed over at them,” she nodded her head at a small group of boys around the age of eleven or twelve, yet Connor was only ten, James thought, “They aren’t his regular group of friends. I need my Connor back.” James heard the desperation in her voice.

“It could’ve been a case of peer pressure that sent him out there, so don’t beat yourself up for being a good mom. I will find Connor, that’s a promise. I will find him and bring him back to you. And stay inside the shelter.” He started walking towards a small group of firefighters over near some tables with refreshments on it, but stopped when Jenny placed a hand on his arm.

“I’m coming with you. I’m his mom, and I have a right to…”

James wheeled around and looked into her green eyes—almost like Maggie’s eyes—with as hard a stare as he could manage under the circumstances. “No, Jenny. You hear me? I will go find him, and I’ll have my deputies and the fire brigade search around the shelter, but you must be here for when he gets back,” he insisted. “He’s lost one parent, and I will not take the risk of him losing you, too, however small a chance it may be. Tell me you understand,” James ordered.

“I understand, James. Of course, you’re right. You almost always are,” she gave a shaky laugh and wiped her tears away.

“No more tears tonight, Jenny. Not unless they’re happy ones. Promise?” He said, giving her a smile when deep down he was trying to find something, anything that might be the spark that lit the fires of hope within himself.

He wasn’t there yet.

“Promise,” Jenny replied.

Now it was time to talk to the cavalry.

Passing many people along the way, James got to the firefighters who were all drinking coffee and chatting, and was thankful to find the fire chief among them. While this wasn’t the whole of Kinnemuck’s fire brigade, the chief could organize them quickly. Walt Middleton was pushing sixty but was blessed with the fitness of someone in their forties. James had a feeling that youthful stamina would come in handy tonight.

“Chief, gentlemen, can I have a word?” James asked, trying to keep a calm, level tone.

Chief Walt set his coffee down on the table next to him and replied, a cautious smile on his face. “Sure Sheriff Breaker, what can we do for you?”

He quickly laid out his battle plan, working as fast as he could. Every member of the fire brigade would fan out around the shelter looking for Connor—he didn’t have a picture with him, having forgotten to ask for one from Jenny—and gave them his description. He told Walt to get a picture from Jenny if he needed one. Were they to find any sign of Connor, they were to alert his officers, who would in turn get the information to James. Next, he made his way to his officers and told them to break out road flares and help search with the fire department.

Making his way to the emergency supplies in the back of the shelter, he grabbed a thermos and poured some freshly brewed coffee into it, knowing that it would help warm the kid up, then grabbed a thermal blanket to wrap around Connor if he was able to find him. Next James bundled back up, his scarf wrapped around his neck, and made his way outside to look for any clues as to which direction Connor went.

The wind howled and snowflakes caught on his lips, melting and fading like the memory of a kiss. There were a lot of tracks around the entrance, and he accounted for his own tracks, as well as Jenny’s. He did, however, spot a bit of trash in a deeper imprint in the snow. Finding it, he saw that it was a picture of Jenny, Connor, and Chuck. Somehow it hadn’t blown away, and James had no explanation for it. He picked it up and stowed it in his pocket. It was resting in a depression in the snow that was clearly a child’s shoeprint. Shining his flashlight on the snow, a trail formed ahead of him.

James walked through the ankle-deep snow, had been for at least ten minutes, knowing that soon there wouldn’t even be any tracks left if he didn’t hurry. He quickened his pace despite the cold biting into his feet, causing his arthritis to make him feel like the Tin Man before the oil can. With each step his bones rubbed painfully against each other, but he had to push past the pain creeping up his legs and the cold stiffening his muscles.

Somewhere out here in the polar wasteland was a lost child, and he would not have anyone die on his watch. He knew Jenny was scared to death of losing the remaining family she had left. He had made sure to have Officer Natasha Reed stay with her and keep her morale up as best she could.

Hope was necessary in times of crisis. It’s what keeps people going when the universe seems to fight against you.

Hope was a scarce commodity for James when this evening and the storm stole his vision and made off with his sense of direction like a thief in the night. Hypothermia was a very real danger that would set in quickly in conditions like this, and Connor had been out here longer than James. Both were prey to the elements.

Every step was urged forward by another shoeprint, and he took a moment to drink the coffee from the thermos he carried in his other hand. He drank only a sip, saving the rest to warm Connor up.

Suddenly, the aurora flared a bright red, drawing James’ gaze skyward when he felt an odd sensation of warmth all over his body. He looked ahead and saw something impossible.

He saw Maggie.

Standing unaffected by the elements, she was wearing her long brown hair down just below her shoulders, yet it didn’t blow in the wind. She was wearing a scarlet dress—the same shade the aurora was right now—and he found himself letting go of his fear, his feeling of desolation, and just walked towards her. James couldn’t take his eyes off her, and for the first time there was a break in the storm.

 Wanting to run and catch up to her, to sweep her up in his arms, he moved as fast as his legs would carry him. Before he could reach her, however, a bright flash of light blinded him, and he had to close his eyes. He didn’t stop moving, though, and took a leap of faith.

James finally allowed himself to hope. Maggie can’t really be here. But maybe she’s always been here, right next to my heart. Right where I always keep her. He didn’t realize the size and weight of the cross he’d been carrying in his heart these past seven months until the weight wasn’t there anymore.

“I am always with you, love. Even now, when it’s impossible,” he heard her voice in his head, clearer than anything he’d been able to hear that night, certainly clearer now that the wind and snow weren’t assaulting his senses.

He felt hot tears warm his face but smiled. Only happy tears tonight.

When he opened his eyes, Maggie was gone—no, not gone; she was carrying him through this night. Carrying him so that he might carry another.

In Maggie’s place was Connor, sitting in the snow, directionless, with his arms hugging his knees to his chest, the hood of his coat pulled over his head. There was at least a half-inch of snow on his shoulders. Rushing up to him, James shook Connor, who slowly lifted his head, his eyes opening lethargically.

“Connor,” James began, taking the thermal blanket the chief had given him, and wrapped it around Connor, “I want you to take this thermos and drink the coffee in there, even if you don’t like the way it tastes. The heat and caffeine will do your body some good. I’m going to carry you, okay?”

Connor nodded and James, with a small grunt of effort, hefted the boy in his arms. Together they made their way back.

The weight seemed less troublesome on his arthritis than it should have been. But his footsteps had been made firm, and the song of hope would sing in his heart tonight. It was time the sheriff of Kinnemuck showed his people how to make it through the long dark.

Perhaps his angel really was carrying him along the way. Despite probably suffering from the beginning stages of hypothermia—all the havoc it wreaked on the body was not lost on him—the reality of hope had finally broken through to his heart. The time was right to hope again, and James believed—really believed with his entire being—that Maggie led him to Connor.

With each step, his hope grew, and when he saw a line of red lights from road flares lining the horizon, he knew everything would be okay. Connor had drained the thermos, and a little bit of color was coming back to his cheeks. The shelter was in plain sight soon, and he could just make out Jenny standing in the doorway with Officer Reed. When he trudged his way back to the doorway, Chief Walt gave him another thermal blanket, putting it around James’ shoulders, and patted him on the back.

“Way to go, Sheriff! You’ve made your predecessor awfully proud tonight,” Walt’s warm words were enough to bring warmth to James’ face, a mild blush.

After mother and son were reunited, their argument was forgotten, left to pass by them just as the storm passed. James looked up at the sky to see the aurora pulse from green to red again, then back. It made him think that his Maggie was waving to him.

Jenny walked up to him as Officer Reed escorted Connor inside. “James, without you I wouldn’t have my boy back. I can’t thank you enough for what you did. You risked—”

“Nothing. I think we had an angel looking out for us, wouldn’t you say so, kid?” James asked, calling out to Connor.

Connor was greedily drinking a cup of hot chocolate, but he gave James a thumbs up. The paramedics were looking Connor over and would make sure he was going to be alright.

Jenny gave James a big hug, and he warmly returned it. “Just try not to argue during bad weather, okay?” Jenny lightly punched him in the arm, which just made him chuckle.

After walking inside, he made his way to the podium. He had a message to give the people he was there to protect and serve.

“We won’t have to go it alone this winter. Despite our differences, we are all in this together, ready to help each other out. Thank you all for supporting each other this winter, but this night especially. A family was kept whole tonight, with help from you and the fire department working in cooperation with my department. If you’re lucky, some of you might be permitted to check out the Northern Lights. It’s putting on a pretty good show for you tonight. Hope is here to stay, folks. Be the light that pushes away the darkness.”

At the very back of the room, visible above the heads of people clapping for everyone’s actions that night, was Maggie. She smiled at him before turning to go, as beautiful as the day he’d first seen her, and it was all that he needed tonight.

This was the night the Northern Lights smiled on the town of Kinnemuck.